In the Tent
by alwaysbooks
Summary: When searching for the horcruxes, Ron lies awake in the tent, always thinking, always protecting, always for her.
1. In the Tent

They lay in the tent that night, terrified.

Terrified of what could become of the world they knew, what horrors they might find when they awoke the next morning, if they awoke. Fear haunted their sleep and ruled their lives. They knew it was only a matter of time before they ran out of moves. He would get them. He would take their friend, their world, and their lives. They were terrified.

This, they could admit. All of their fears and nightmares, about losing family, friends, hope, security; they allowed themselves to speak of that... they allowed themselves to make it real.  
>What they couldn't express- what they didn't dare talk about- was their fear of losing each other.<br>And it was more than fear, or terror. The thought of them losing the other shocked them to their core. The horror was unimaginable, unspeakable.  
>Instead, they ignored it. They, those two, joint at the hip, forever attached, forever oblivious, ignored the slow, aching burn that stayed in their chest until they fell asleep at night; only to have it reignited the next day. Every time they would open their sleep blurred eyes at dawn and see the other, the ache would burst, only to hurt even more that day than the last.<p>

They lay in the tent that night, terrified.

Ron, his body to long for the tiny shelter, curled himself deeper into the nest of blankets, watching her sleeping figure. Always watching, always protecting, always terrified. For him, his family he left behind, but never more so than for her. She lay next to him, her body tucked into the smallest shape it could manage. A frown graced her face, her features far from relaxed and at peace. He wished he could give her the dreams she deserved. Ron ached to brush her hair from her face, to move closer to her, to hold her in her sleep. But that was breaking the rule. That one rule that disallowed them creating something precious that could be lost in these horrible times. He didn't want to lose love. The consequences of simply letting his hand meet hers could be devastating.

The shuffle of sleeping bags and pained whimpers could be heard from the left. Harry having another nightmare; just one more thing that Ron could not save him from. He felt helpless, hopeless.

The wind whistled through the fir trees and whipped and wrestled with the tents. Ron stayed awake into the early hours of the morning, watching the new sun light up her face. He never dared move an inch from where he lay. When the birds began to chirp, she shifted in her slumber. Her bare arm grazed his and he felt the familiar prickle of his hairs stand on end. She settled there, against his warm body, her head on his shoulder. Finally, with relief and a swell of his heart, he saw her frown  
>smooth out and her nightmares disintegrate.<p>

That was the first night.


	2. The Second Night

It was the second night in the woods. Winter was slowly creeping up on them and the sky was painted white with thick, threatening clouds.  
>Hermione sat in the tent with only a flickering lantern for company. Despite the pile of blankets she was curled inside and the layers of thick, woolly jumpers (courtesy of several Molly), she was still freezing. The boys sat outside, only feet away but she still felt alone. It had been weeks since they had seen anyone else and in a way, Hermione knew she should be grateful for that. They were safe, no one had found them.<p>

It was all she thought about at night, lying in the dark. Harry and Ron slept on either side, their soft breathing and familiar scents comforted her but she was terrified at every given moment. She saw shadows outside the tent that were no more than a tree branch chilled her to her very core. The wind wailed and owls screeched at her, every noise yelling at her, screaming at her to go home. Pack up their things, grab Harry and Ron and go home to your family.

She knew she couldn't.

Tears burned her eyes and she felt ashamed to think that, she knew what she signed up for. Hermione wanted nothing more than to help Harry in any way that she could. She would stand by his side until the very end.

And then there was Ron.  
>Ron who watched over her every move, making sure she was safe. Harry did too of course; her two boys threw themselves in front of every danger for her, they had done since first year. But Ron, Ron would give up his sweater, only to make her put in on over her own. He spooned extra rice and mushrooms into her bowl when he thought she wasn't looking, despite his groaning stomach. He would sit with his back to the lake, holding his lantern high so she wouldn't have to bathe in the dark. In the glowing candlelight, Hermione could always see the tips of his ear turning red.<p>

All because of this, she thought that putting as much space between them was the best option. That avoiding his comforting touches, to sit anywhere but at his side around the fire, was best. It only ached even more when she knew that it was all that could happen.

At night, in the tent, she longed for him. Just one touch, innocent or not, that could give her an excuse to retaliate, to just give in and crush herself to him; to give him everything. She was already his, whether he knew it or not.  
>Lying so close to him was torture, in her sleep; she sought out his warmth and always awoke the next morning coiled around him. That was breaking the rules, but he held her tight nevertheless.<p>

The snow finally began to fall from the sky and soon it was relentless. The howling wind whipped the tent ferociously as Harry and Ron finally gave up watch and entered the tent.

There wasn't much to say to each other as they all settled down to sleep. Harry slipped into the sleeping bag and immediately started snoring softly.  
>Ron turned on his side to face Hermione.<br>She smiled, neither happy nor sad. She was just relieved to have him by her side again. This was the only moment they both craved, they both desperately needed; to be near each other and know with their very eyes that the other was still alive.

Yet, it still was not enough. He licked his cold lips feverishly, longing to know what hers felt like against his. They always looked so soft to him, even now tinged with blue from the dropping temperatures. Hermione's eyes dropped to linger on his lips too, and he would give anything in that moment to know what she was thinking. They both sighed.

Extinguishing the last candle, they lay in silence. Ten minutes passed before a small hand came from underneath the blankets to grasp Ron's own.  
>Hermione held her breath, her heart racing wildly and she almost gasped in relief as he grasped her hand back. She revelled in the rough, calloused and so innocent feel of him and for now, as they fell asleep, that was enough.<p> 


	3. The Third Night

Harry stood next to the fading embers of the fire, sick to the pit of his stomach with worry and feeling utterly helpless. The rain poured down relentlessly and his threadbare T-shirt clung to him as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.

Ron sat at the tent opening reaching in and murmuring desperately to the crying girl within.

The boys had been on watch- well, Harry had been but Ron could not sleep and joined his friend under the floating shelter he was levitating with his wand. The rain pounded the forest floor around them but they shared the rhythmic beat of the drops in peace. The sky was painted black and the horizon was bleak. As they passed the remaining dregs of pumpkin juice between them, it seemed like only minutes passed before another sound pierced through the night. The sound froze the blood in their veins and the shelter came crashing down on them at the sudden break in Harry's concentration.  
>The noise, that horrifying, alarming sound came from the tent behind them. A scream so terrible that Harry and Ron knew they would never wish to hear it for as long as they would live.<br>Harry scrambled and grasped clumsily at the wet leaves and when he finally found his footing he saw Ron already ripping the tent zip open in fear.

Ron called for her desperately, attempting to calm her screams, trying in vain to soothe her. Harry stood by the fire, watching, waiting. Hermione didn't need anyone else right now.

Minutes or hours passed before the screams quietened, Harry lost track of time. Ron was half way in the tent; only his feet visible as water dripped off of him. Slowly, he shuffled backwards to opening, now with Hermione in tow. Her cheeks were tearstained and her eyes glistened. Harry also noted how her already too large shirt was now falling off her shoulder, showing dangerously prominent bones. Harry felt sick, helpless.  
>All he could do was watch as Ron took her into his arms and released all the love he had for her, to calm her, to soothe her, to help her. Anything to stop the tears.<p>

''Nightmare...'' Hermione stuttered through her tears, hiccupping heavily. That's all she had to say. Ron curled his long arms around her small frame, drawing her to him. He stroked her wild hair and crooned softly in her ear. Hermione clung to him, not even noticing his dripping clothes and the freezing wind that attacked them.  
>''Tell me, eh? It's okay, tell me what happened Hermione.''<br>More tears slipped from her eyes and she took a deep breath before burying her head into Ron's shoulder.  
>''Hermione?'' Ron asked gently. The redhead spoke in hushed tones and Harry could hardly hear him over the persistent weather, he only watched with a growing smile as he gathered Hermione fully into his arms.<br>''You, you left. You left us.'' Hermione hiccupped.  
>Ron closed his eyes in pain upon her words.<br>''You left me Ron... and you didn't come back.''

Harry sunk into the dark shadows to give the pair some much needed privacy. He turned just as he heard Ron say fervently that he would never, _ever_, leave Hermione.  
>Finally, Hermione's tears dried but she didn't let go of Ron, who didn't mind this at all. Trying not to disturb the girl on this lap, Ron retrieved his wand from his pocket and pointed at the piece of plastic Harry and previously used to cover them from the rain.<br>'' _Wingardium levios''.  
><em>The shelter flew above them with ease and hovered there, stopping the freezing water. Ron would cradle her there, for as long as she needed it. He would do everything in his being to convince her that he was not going anywhere.

''I'm not going anywhere, Hermione. I promise.'' He whispered into the dark night revelling in the feel of her small body pressed into his. The sensation of her soft hair on his cheek burned his insides and made his heart beg. Hermione could only nod as she gripped the fabric of his shirt in clenched fists and tried to bury herself even more into him.

That was the third night, and the nightmares sadly had only just begun.


	4. The Fouth Night, the Run

Huge branches and tiny splinters shot off in different directions, some missing him by inches, others piercing into his skin with burning pain. He could hear the curses and hexes ricochet off of the forest trees and fly past him at alarming speed. Blood pounded in his ears and his lungs were yelling at him, screaming at him to please, please god, stop.  
>Ron kept running. He watched Harry and Hermione in front of him, running a couple of feet ahead. Please, he begged, please let us keep running.<p>

He heard the snatchers before he saw them, Ron had been on watch that hour, deep into the night. It was probably four in the morning, Ron had guessed, the sun had barely peeked over the horizon and the morning fog swirled and danced at his ankles. He'd been sitting by the fire since eleven that night, his wand clasped tightly in his hands. Ron had sent Hermione straight back into the tent at 2am, she'd come to take over watch but hadn't managed to set a foot out the tent before he sent a ''No way, back to bed'', her way.  
>It was only an hour later when he heard the voices. Men's voices, deep and husky, arguing ferociously .Ron's gasp caught in his throat, it had been weeks since they'd seen other people. He'd frozen still, panicking about what to do. Hermione and Harry were still asleep, not three feet behind him in the tent. The voices were getting louder and Ron knew they would soon come into view.<p>

He knew in his head that the wards conjured by Hermione, Harry and himself were still surrounding them, invisible to the naked eye but humming silently like a live wire. However, terror and alarm took over. He sprang to his feet just as five wizards came through the last thicket of trees and into the clearing, _their_ clearing. Ron sprang to his feet and leaped to the tent, knocking over a goblet in the process. The moon shone brightly through the dark night and Ron saw the men stop. Their dark eyes glistened as all five pairs glared in his direction. He swore that the largest one _sniffed_ the air; he looked part troll and grunted excitedly.  
>Holding his breath in order to be as quiet as he could, Ron unzipped the tent and crawled inside. Harry was already awake, alert and ready to move. He pulled his hoody over his dishevelled hair, slammed his glasses over his nose and grabbed his wand.<br>''Wake Hermione'', he whispered, and then slunk out of the tent and out of sight.

Ron didn't know what happened outside; he didn't know how the wards failed. He didn't know how the snatchers broke their charms or who shouted the first hex. He did know, however, that when he heard the shouts of '_'Stupefy!_'', he had to move. Fast.

Shoving the first jacket that came into contact with his hand onto Hermione, he grabbed his own wand as she found hers underneath her pillow. Knowing there was no safe way to do it; they held each other's hands tight and threw themselves out into the mercy of the dark night.

It was a case of flight, not fight. Harry shouted instructions as soon as they emerged into the clearing. The five snatchers shouted curses and hexes, all mixed with obscenities. Harry, ducked behind one the logs they had used for benches shouted back with quick, sharp throws of his arm. Then, within minutes, they were running. All of them running, Harry leading the way through the sharp branches and over turned trees, Ron pushing Hermione in front of him, telling her to run! To move! To keep up with Harry, to please god, just stay safe... And the snatchers, so close behind the trio, still yelling furiously and gaining on them at every second. They seemed to run for hours, or minutes? It might have been days. Ron didn't know. His legs burned, his heart raced, his lungs screamed in agony. His throat was tightening and he could see Hermione's long brown curls flying in front of him. Ron saw her look over her shoulder for the millionth time, watching him with huge worried eyes. Her face swam in his vision, she seemed so far away. He didn't know why she screamed until his vision went black and his head hit the ground. 


	5. Hi guys, thoughts?

Hi everyone, I know it's been so long since I last posted but after I re-read the story myself, I wanted to continue with ''In the Tent''. Would anyone be interested in reading more chapters?

Let me know, feedback is always awesome :)


	6. The Fifth Night

White spots swam hazily above him; the darkness that had engulfed him was now clearing and whispered noises buzzed in his ears. Ron shifted uncomfortably on a hard surface and coldness erupted throughout his body. His back was stiff, his neck ached and there was a searing pain coming from his temple. Wincing in pain, he lifted a pale hand to his head, his stomach lurching as he felt the still wet blood seeping from the wound that was inflicted upon him. When? He groaned.

_The tent, rain, night time. Harry, Hermione. Confused. Hermione. Snatchers, hexes, nowhere to run. Harry, chasing, scared, run, Hermione. Running, too fast, Hermione, trees, terrified, Hermione. Hermione, Hermione, Hermione.  
><em>  
>Hermione.<br>Scrambling to his knees as quickly as his weak body would allow, Ron took in his surroundings for the first time in seven hours. Cement floors and brick walls encased him and a lone trickle of water leaked into an overflowing sewage drain in the far corner. Chains hung menacingly from the walls and a thick, oak door was sealed shut in front of him; escape looked bleak. Ron was alone, without a wand, without his friend, without Hermione.

Like the cell he was now trapped in, his world had turned grey.

More voices droned in his ears, above his head. Clearer this time and slightly louder. Hissing as he stood, he made his way shakily towards the door that allowed him no escape. His world shook and titled as he held his still bleeding wound, tears stinging his eyes as confusion, pain and loss overtook him. Breathing deeply, he tried in vain to hear what the voices were saying, Ron practically held his breath in order to gain any knowledge that would help him.

The voices got higher, louder, shriller, angrier.

''I'll find him eventually.''

_Who? Harry?_

''Don't question me boy! Do as I say!''

_Anger and fear ripped through the place._

''Bring her here now. A little gentle persuading never killed anyone. ''

_A mirthless laugh echoed through Ron's body._

''The girl will have something to say about it.''

_Who? No. Please._

''Bring out the mudblood.''

Ron's heart tore from his chest as his body collapsed to the ground. His head burned with pain nothing was more painfully raw and agonising than the roar of anguish that ripped from the young man's throat.

That was the fifth night and Ron spent it in more pain than he had ever known possible.


End file.
